One Summer, Five Weddings, Three Continents

I've been back in Morocco for a week now. I left Morocco for a quick trip to the Netherlands for a wedding and also to renew my visa. Every time I enter the country, the stamp in my passport is only valid for 3 months and so I was due to leave the country and then come back in again. It just so happened that one of my really good friends (named Melvina, she calls me her "brother from another mother") was getting married in Holland right around the same time my 3 months was up. To top it all off, a new budget airline was launched a few months ago in Morocco with daily flights throughout Europe. As you read in my last blog, my experience at the airport was quite a unique one, but I got there safe and sound. And if you're wondering about the lady whom I agreed to check in with in order to claim half her bag weight, she wasn't carrying any drugs, bombs or other illegal material, so I (or we) wasn't stopped at customs in Amsterdam. Actually, we got disconnected after getting off the plane and I didn't see her in the immigration line or in the baggage claim area. I thought maybe she already got her bag (after all, she was sitting in the front of the plane and got off way before me) and took off to Den Haag without me. If you recall, back at the airport in Morocco, she found out I was going to The Hague and offered to give me a ride and also a place to stay for a few nights if I needed it. I was going to take her up on the ride, especially because our plane was about 4 hours late and we arrived in Amsterdam at 2am. There were no more trains to The Hague, so when I didn't see her after going through immigrations and customs, I figured that I was going to be spending the night in the airport. It's not all that bad (I did it last year) except for the security guards in yellow that prohibit people from falling asleep or sleeping on the floor. I remember being woken up every 30 minutes by these men in yellow yelling something at me in Dutch. Luckily, just as I was finding a place to crash for a few hours, I saw my luggage friend. She was like, "Where the heck were you? I was looking all over the baggage claim area and even asking customs officials if they've seen a young American man already pass through." I had my doubts, thinking that she left just like that. I kept thinking to myself that that was very un-Moroccan of her. And just when I began to doubt, I saw her. I should have known better. Stupid me. In places like the US, someone would have offered to give me a ride or a place to stay and then snuck out of the airport without being seen. In Morocco, they call this "swab". In other words, you are polite and hospitable, but don't really mean it. Offering me a ride to The Hague at 2am and then leaving me behind at the airport would have been "swab", but luckily that wasn't the case. It was standard Moroccan kindheartedness. Her husband was waiting outside the airport and they drove me to The Hague, to the doorstep of my friend's house. No strings attached. Just out of the goodness of their own hearts. Why can't the world be a place where this happens so much that it's not even a big deal anymore?

At 3am, after a long day of traveling, I finally got to lay down and get a nice night of sleep. In the morning, Melvina's parents walked into the kitchen area of the apartment, where I was sleeping on a roll-away bed. They had no idea that I had come. I haven't seen them since the last time I was in South Africa (about a year and a half ago) and they were pleasantly surprised. Her family has really adopted me as one of their own sons, especially whenever I am visiting South Africa, and her father always introduces me as his son. When introducing me to the new in-laws in Holland, he would say "...And this is my son, Ryan... Melvina's sister" People would smile and shake my hand, but they had a perplexed expression on their face as they were trying to figure it out. They didn't want to be impolite, but they were wondering how an African man could have a white son like me. Plus, Melvina and I don't look anything alike. I might be a little tan but I'm no African. Unless they asked, I just let them figure out that Melvina's dad wasn't serious about me being a blood-relative and left it at that. I'm not going to lie, it was a bit awkward at times.

Being in Holland was really great. It's definitely a change from Morocco. I don't know if I would consider Morocco a "Third World" country (whatever "Third World" even means these days), but I also don't know if I could call it a "First World" country (whatever that means). There are definitely aspects of Morocco that are more familiar to the Third World and other parts that are very First World-like. However, Morocco is no Holland, and Holland is no Morocco. Despite the widespread forces of globalization that are making the two countries more and more alike, there are something things that I saw in Holland that you just don't see in everyday Moroccan life. Here are a few of those snapshots...

1. Parking lots/garages for bikes only. There are not even enough parking garages for cars in Morocco, let alone bikes.
2. The first day in Holland, I saw a guy riding his bike; handle bar in one hand and a Heineken in the other. I was thinking about trying that in Morocco... maybe someone will stone me like the French girl in Fez (story below).
3. While walking the streets of Amsterdam, it's not uncommon to catch a strong whiff of Marijuana streaming from the "Coffee Shops". I have yet to smell any Marijuana in Morocco, pretty ironic for being the world's second largest producer of the plant.
4. On just about any street in Den Haag or Amsterdam, I could choose to eat Japanese, Greek, Chinese, Turkish, Indian, Suriname, or Indonesian food. In Morocco, it's either tajines, sandwiches, or shawarma.
5. Crosswalks and crosswalk lights. In Morocco, you just go. Although crossing the street in Morocco can sometimes be difficult (especially in Casablanca), crossing the street in Holland is equally as difficult. First you have to look for bikes on the specified bike lane, then check for cars, and before crossing, watch out for trams that have the right-away. If it's red and you try to cross, it's very likely you will get hit by either a bike, car, or tram. In Morocco, everyone on the road expects pedestrians will cross whenever they like and will mostly swerve to avoid hitting you
6. Liquor stores and bars- the Dutch love their beer. In most places in Morocco (apart from the nice hotels catering toward the international crowd), you have to look pretty hard to find alcohol.
7. Trains and public transportation that are fast, frequent, and reliable. In Morocco, trains are relatively fast and mostly reliable, except when compared to the public-trans of Europe.
8. Ramadan in The Netherlands is almost non-existent. Unlike Morocco, all cafes and restaurants remain open and people are shamelessly eating in public. In Morocco, you will not find any cafe or restaurant open (except those catering to tourists, located away from public view) or anyone eating/drinking/smoking in public during the Holy Month.
9. To ride in a taxi in Holland must be a luxury (and expensive) because they are all new Mercedes E-classes. In Morocco, the taxis are 30 year-old Fiats but are only a 10th of the price to ride in.

My four days in Holland were fabulous. Balanced between the family (Melvina and her parents), eating (lots of good meals, especially food that I don't get in Morocco), enjoying public transit (taking the trams and trains into Den Haag central and also to Amsterdam), meeting new friends (Stefan's friends and Melvina's new in-laws), and having the time of my life at a wonderful wedding, I had such a great time that I really do miss Holland. After going to a few Moroccan weddings, I was interested in seeing what a Dutch wedding would be like. This summer has been a summer of weddings for me... one back in California, three in Morocco, and now one in The Netherlands (I went to more weddings this summer than in my whole life). Of course, I didn't get a "typical" Dutch wedding (if there was such a thing), but instead a blend of Dutch, Suriname, Indian, and South African cultures into one fun celebration. The wedding began at noon at the City Hall where they did all the legal stuff. There were about 100 people, family and friends (most of whom were Stefan's, as Melvina's support is mostly in South Africa) in this little room. Since it was all in Dutch, I didn't really get much of it, so I just pretended like I knew everything that was going on. After an hour, the papers were signed, the groom kissed the bride, and just like that, my sister Melvina was married. I had the privilege of being the "non-paid" photographer. It was my first time taking pictures of a wedding and I really enjoyed it. They had a professional photographer, so this gave me the freedom to experiment and take a bunch of shots without having the burden of making sure they get their money's worth. Every shot was really just a gift to them... and experience for me. It was a nice change to see the wedding from behind my camera's viewfinder (I know... I'm such a nerd). After all the legal stuff was done, the party began at a venue nearby. The wedding celebration took place a club/church. Yes, Club slash Church. During the weekend, the building is used as a night club... dancing, booze, the whole thing. Then a few times a week during the day, the fellowship rents out the building to use for their gatherings. Don't you love the irony of it? Anyways, there are several ups to having a wedding celebration in a club. Some might say it's because of the open bar, and others might say they just feel more comfortable at a place like a club (instead of a reception hall or traditional church building). In my opinion, the best part about having a wedding celebration in a club is the sound system. You know you aren't going to be lacking in the music section when you are partying at a club. And to top it all off, the DJ played some great music. It wasn't just your Top 40 R&B hits that everyone knows... he included music from India and Suriname, as well as a good dose of salsa and other latin hits. When you get a group of multi-cultural people celebrating a wedding and you play music from all over the world, you know you are going to have a fun time. Melvina's parents were breaking it down South African style, Stefan's Suriname relatives were doing their South American style jig, and the Indians were doing their thing. I don't know where I was in the mix, but I had fun! 6 hours of dancing and a couple hundred photos... what a night!

I made it home around 2am (early if you compare it to Moroccan weddings) for a few hours of sleep before my last day in Holland. Fortunately, my flight back to Morocco was at night so I was able to catch a train to Amsterdam for a few hours. Amsterdam is probably my favorite city in Europe (I've been to quite a few throughout most of Western Europe). It's unlike any other city. There are no skyscrapers (except for outside the main part of Amsterdam) and the whole city is lined with the skinny 4 story houses you've seen in postcards or while watching The Diary of Anne Frank movie in Middle School. There are literally thousands of miles of bike paths throughout the city as well as a whole network of dykes/canals that give another perspective of the city when seen by boat. Then, as was the case the other weekend when I was there, there is always something going on in Amsterdam. Last year in April when I was there, there was a huge carnival set up in the main square. The other weekend, there was an outdoor music festival throughout the city. Bands were playing in parts all around the city. To top it off, there were guys walking around with Grolsch keg carts. They had a chilled keg of beer on their cart, selling beer on tap to those enjoying the festival. I think this keg cart fits in the "This is definitely not Morocco" list. One of my favorite things about Amsterdam however, is the diversity of the city. Amsterdam is a city of immigrants. Some, especially those whose political views are further on the right than they are left, may see this as a negative aspect. But I see this as something beautiful, not just because I had so much fun the night before at a diverse, multi-cultural wedding, but because the beauty of God's creation is found not in those like ourselves, but in those unlike ourselves. It is through interactions with "the other" that enlightenment, understanding, and knowledge are made possible. Amsterdam is a place where people from around the world have come in pursuit of a better life. The city of Amsterdam is a beautiful mosaic of God's creation. On every street you will see people from every continent, color, and religion. It seems that the world is moving in the direction of a multi-ethnic and multi-cultural collection of cities where understanding and harmony replace hate and close-mindedness. May we continue to seek "the other" and discover the true abundance of God's beautiful creation.

***Above, I mentioned something about the French girl in Fez. I guess last week, a French tourist was visiting the medina in Fez. Fez, particularly the medina, is the religious capital of Morocco. Many consider it the most conservative city in Morocco, simply for this reason. So, this French tourist was walking through the medina. Because all the cafes are closed during Ramadan, she was unable to stop and eat or drink. However, she had a water bottle and wanted to drink a bit. Attempting to be culturally sensitive and "hide" the water from public, as not to offend or make it look like she was eating or drinking anything, she put the water bottle in a bag and then continued to drink it. If you can picture this... a girl drinking something from a bag... it looks like booze. The story goes that people began to throw stones at her because it appeared that not only was she drinking something, but she was drinking alcohol. This is a big no no... anywhere in Morocco, especially during Ramadan, especially in Fez. I can't help but to laugh at this story. I am not a Muslim, but I can't help but to respect everyone else who is fasting. If I am going to eat or drink anything, I'm going to do it away from everyone... not in the medina where there are thousands of people on the streets. Also, to "cover it up" in a bag is just ironic. I can only imagine how oblivious she was to her own actions, until the rocks started coming. On the other hand, I can understand the Moroccan side... kind of. I understand how offensive that might be, but I could never imagine myself throwing rocks at a not-so-bright tourist. That is too hilarious (I hope you get my humor)! So maybe if I ride a bike with a Heineken in one hand, like the guy in Holland, I too may be stoned. That would be a story to tell my kids.....